S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (55 page)

 

For Lyssa, the drive into work the next morning felt like it was taking forever. It wasn't just because of the frequent delays caused by the numerous construction crews digging up the sides of the roads, but also because the marines based out of Riverhead were engaged in some sort of training exercise and their trucks were taking up half the lanes of the highway.

It wasn't like she was eager to get in. She was dreading having to break the news to Drew that their project was being backburnered. Ramon had assured her that it was only temporary, but she knew Drew would find no reassurance in this. They all knew how these things worked. By the time the Ames study was finished, the PGE work would be too dead and cold to revive, not without new funding.

Now she wished she hadn't sequestered herself inside her office after her meeting with Ramon yesterday. Drew had come knocking, of course, expressing concern. But she had brushed him off, snapping at him through the door that she wasn't taking visitors for the remainder of the afternoon. She was wracking her brain for a way to change Ramon's mind about it, but nothing had come to her.

Her sour mood had accompanied her on her drive home last night. She'd been so upset that she nearly rear-ended the car in front twice when they came to a stop at yet another of the tower construction sites. She almost missed her exit.

Things hadn't improved once she got home. She neglected Cassie all through dinner and well into the evening, despite the signals her daughter was sending her for attention. She'd begun sucking her thumb lately. And when Lyssa told her not to, she sucked on her arm instead. When she asked for a bedtime story, Lyssa had snapped. “Go to bed!”

“Please, Mama? Just one story. The rabbit one.”

“Damn it, Cassie! Go to sleep. Please, for once just do what I ask!”

She hadn't meant to be so harsh. She certainly felt bad about it afterward, angry at herself but also at Ramon for dumping this on her the way he had. Then feeling guilty because she was doing exactly what she'd accused Ramon of doing just the day before, neglecting Cassie.

Halfway down the stairs, she changed her mind. But when she went back up, she'd found Cassie already asleep. The puppy — well, he was almost fully grown — had lifted his head from where he lay on the bed and peered at her standing in the doorway. He wasn't supposed to be on the furniture, but Lyssa decided to let it slide.

“Just for tonight,” she quietly told him.

Afterwards, she'd sat at the kitchen table and stared out the window into the Long Island night. She felt trapped by her sadness and anger. It was as if someone had reached into her chest and twisted at her soul until it broke free of its moorings. She felt like she was drifting away.

Damn Ramon
, she thought, even as she knew he was only doing what he believed was right for the business.
Damn him. And damn me
.

Steeling herself for the day ahead as she sat in the lab's parking lot the next morning, she listened to the radio a few minutes more. She hadn't been able to find her favorite DJ, so now she was listening to the news. There was some story about an altercation south of the Marine Corps base, people injured.
Probably one of the young recruits
, she thought. They were always getting drunk and into trouble.

She switched off the engine and got out of the car. The day was already warm and muggy, and the heat came up off the blacktop in unrelenting waves. Much to her relief, Ramon's car wasn't yet in the parking lot, but the reprieve would only be temporary. Soon he'd arrive, probably well-rested in his quiet apartment, and he'd come looking for her. First he'd ask how she was doing (as if he cared). Then he'd ask about Cassie. Finally, after he'd accepted the bold-faced lies that they were all doing well —
really fucking well, thank you
, she'd think but not say — he'd get down to the nitty gritty, as he liked to say, and interrogate her to make sure she was on track to transitioning over to the new project.

She slipped down the hall and went straight to her office, avoiding talking with the other staff. Most were already there, already at work. She unlocked the door and went and sat down at her desk without even bothering to turn on the light. With the dreary drive now behind her, she felt that it hadn't taken nearly as long as she wished.

What's happened to us?
she wondered. Ever since Remy's death, Ramon had been just so—

difficult

—distracted. He was so focused on work, on the money side of it. Like he was hiding in those problems so he wouldn't have to face the real problems happening to them, to their family.

She was aware of how unhappy he'd grown lately, and not just with her and her self-absorption. The thing with little Remington had torn them both apart — from each other as well as themselves — but not even that could fully explain what was happening to them. If she were being totally honest with herself, she'd have to confess that the space between them had begun to grow long before she became pregnant.

It's the work.

Ramon had always enjoyed the science, but what they ended up doing was so much less glamorous. He'd had to take on the administrative responsibilities which came with running a research laboratory, a role he claimed to abhor.

There were endless regulations to learn, new ones to adapt to, changes in technologies to always be aware of, plus endless inspections and audits. And money wasn't exactly flowing in torrents. They were constantly reviewing expenses, looking for shortcuts, begging for projects. At least they'd moved past not paying invoices in order to pay their employees.

This was not why they had started the business, but it's what the business had become. Ramon had taken the management onto his shoulders so Lyssa could continue to be in the lab. So wasn't it ironic that his decision to let her do what she enjoyed would culminate in another decision that stripped it away?

All this BS can just go away.
That's what he'd told her. If they could somehow make this project work, he promised her that they'd be able to do the type of research they'd always dreamed of doing.

She had been tempted to tell him that she'd not dreamt of anything since finishing medical school and coming here with him. All those years of study up in Boston, her PhD in endocrinology and her clinical internships in general medicine at New York Medical, all gone to waste. Why? So she could figure out how to make cows produce more milk, thicker steaks?

She pinched her eyes shut and tried to empty her head of the thoughts clogging it. But it wasn't working. She just kept hearing him complaining about the money, how there was never enough of it. He had been frustrated with her decision to hire a full-time nanny despite the fact that Cassie was in pre-school for half a day (not to mention the cost of the school itself when, according to him, Cassie belonged in a public kindergarten program, or even first grade by now). “Oh yeah,” she'd angrily countered. “What about the cost of those stupid solar panels?”

“They'll pay for themselves over time!”

Neither of them mentioned the cost of Remy's funeral.

The solar panels had stuck in her craw from his very first mention. It was more than a question of if it was wise to go off-grid. (She didn't think it was.) “Look around us, Rame,” she'd said. “Nobody else on the island is converting.”

That might have been the end of it, but then the government went and banned all Chinese imports. Prices of domestically manufactured goods were beginning to skyrocket. Without consulting her, Ramon went and purchased the panels and contracted to have them installed. When she found out about it, she told him she couldn't be with him. “I just can't trust you.” But it was too late to cancel the work order or the purchase.

It was a stupid thing to do, kicking him out, and she knew it. She hadn't been thinking, just reacting, and she knew in the fraction of a moment just before the words flew from her lips that it was selfish of her. Of course, by then it was too late, because she'd said it. And all his protests and rationalizations did was to fuel her anger and solidify her resolve. She didn't want him to leave, of course, but she couldn't back down now. It was the principle of the matter. She silently cursed herself for allowing herself to lose control like that, while vocally cursing him for making a unilateral decision on such a large purchase.

In the days which followed, she tried to assuage her guilt by convincing herself that it was what they both needed— a little space, some perspective. And so what if maybe it stretched the family to the very edge of breaking? They would heal stronger for it, right? You had to crack a few eggs to make an omelet, after all. Isn't that how the old saying went?

Yet at the same time, nagging in the back of her mind was that other damn idiom, the one about never being able to unboil an egg. She just hoped she hadn't boiled an egg where Cassie's father was concerned.

There was a quiet knock at her door, and she heard Drew's voice. “Am I interrupting something?”

She moved her hand away from her face. “Come in. Hit the lights.”

He did so and settled into the chair opposite her. “Rough night?”

She shrugged and looked away.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to hit a nerve.”

She waved her hand impatiently. “We need to wrap up the PGE project.”

Drew didn't look at all surprised. In fact, he looked as if he hadn't even heard her. “I've got an idea for a quick experiment, something we haven't yet explored.”

Lyssa smiled thinly and shook her head. “We're supposed to focus on the Ames collaboration starting first thing Monday morning. Unless you can give me something by the end of the week, I think we're pretty much dead in the water.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone and tapped it a couple times. “What about this?” He nodded at her computer, indicating he'd just sent her something.

Confused, she reached over and woke the tablet on her desk. “New phone?” she asked, as she typed in her login password.

“It's one of the new communication devices,” Drew answered, “the ones hooked directly into the Stream. Figured I might as well switch sooner rather than later.” He slid it across the desk for her to check out, but she just flicked her eyes at it before returning to the tablet's screen.

“What am I looking for?”

“Check your inbox. I sent you a file I found this morning.”

“Drew, you didn't sleep here again last night, did you?”

“Nope. Found it while driving in.”

“Surfing the Internet while driving? That can't be safe.”

He chuckled. “Not the ‘Net. Told you already it's the Stream. They started moving data over a couple weeks ago. I have to say, I'm impressed. It's super fast, has incredible bandwidth. And these new devices take full advantage of all of it. You should get one.”

“I'm happy with the stupid phone I have now.”

“I see Ramon's already got one.”

Lyssa scowled. Here he was, worried about money and the first chance he gets he spends more of it.

“They've been giving them away free to anyone willing to be their guinea pig. It's just for a limited time.”

“I just can't be bothered.” She squinted at her screen and read the file name. “
NANO
?”

“That's it.”

She chuckled when she opened the document and saw the name of the author on the dissertation. “Well, this is a blast from the past, Drew. And a pretty wild idea. But even if this were to work,” she told him, “there's no guarantee Heather will be willing to send us any of this stuff to test. Or even able to. We only overlapped in the lab for a year, so we weren't very close. Plus it's been a few years. And how would we test—”

“Rabbits. I happen to have a bunch just waiting to go, just itching to get preggers.”

“If I didn't know better, you've been planning this for a while.”

“You work your charms on Professor Hicks,” Drew told her, standing up. He gestured for the return of his phone. “And I'll work my charms on those critters. I'll personally make sure a dozen or so are pregnant by Thursday.”

“You realize what that sounds like, don't you?”

Drew sidled out from between the desk and the chair, the whole time giving her a wry smile. “You really should look into getting one of these things,” he said, holding up the small black rectangle. “Last night, when the cell towers went out again, this thing worked like a charm.”

Lyssa snorted. “With a lame name like
iLINK
? Yeah, I'll run right out and get one.” She watched him make his way to the door. “Oh, and one more thing. Let's just keep this thing with Heather between the two of us.”

“Okay. You're the boss.”

* * *

Lyssa had a vague memory of the graduate student whose work had culminated in the doctoral thesis Drew had dug up. Heather Hicks had been finishing up her PhD studies in Jim Pearce's lab at Harvard when Lyssa joined as an MD-PhD student; they'd overlapped by maybe a year and had interacted only occasionally. And whereas Lyssa had been a socially active member of the lab, participating in many of the off-campus functions, Heather had been busy writing her thesis, the one now sitting on her tablet. Now, a dozen years later, Heather was a professor of biochemistry at Dartmouth.

And you're injecting viruses into cow uteruses. No, check that. Rabbits.

Lyssa quickly reread the work, which outlined how Heather had assembled synthetic carbon nanotubes around a bundle of synthesized genes, creating virus-like particles. Using S-band microwave pulses of varying frequencies and by carefully controlling the relative concentrations of cell-targeting proteins, she was able to target the particles to cells with a high degree of specificity. The cells would gobble the particles up, delivering the genes to the area of the cytoplasm where new proteins were made. Unable to make new copies of themselves as wild viruses are capable of doing, the genes were not passed onto the next generation. This last bit was an important criterion in the PGE project, as it prevented anyone from simply cloning any cow Laroda created.